


Angels vs Christmas

by KittyAug, KittyAugust (KittyAug)



Category: Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett, Supernatural
Genre: Christmas, Crowley (Good Omens) is Crowley (Supernatural), Light Angst, Light crack, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Subtext, light fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-24
Updated: 2014-12-24
Packaged: 2018-03-03 06:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2841035
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAug, https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittyAug/pseuds/KittyAugust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gabriel turns up on Christmas morning with an injured angel and demands that the Winchesters summon Crowley, of all people, to fix him up. Dean is grumpy, Cas is confused and Sam is way too drunk for this. No one knows what’s going on.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels vs Christmas

“I don’t suppose you two idiots have everything on hand to summon the Ki…” Gabriel glanced at the semi-conscious man in his arms. “Um, Crowley, do you?”

“You’re dead!” Sam stammered. Ignoring the question in favour of more pressing issues. Like why there was a dead archangel on their doorstep. He knew they started on the eggnog too early. He should have known that the Winchesters don't get Christmas off.

“Well, no, obviously not. But this guy will be soon if you don’t help me. Maybe try start by, oh I don’t know, answering the question!?”

“Yeah we do,” Dean said stepping forward to block the Bunker doors. “But why the hell should we help you?”

“Well, because _I_ tried to help you stop the apocalypse! I stabbed my big brother for you monkeys. And _this_ moron,” he shook his rumpled burden for emphasis, “has been stopping apocalypses since before _you_ were even born, bucko.”

Gabriel actually seemed angry, Sam realized. And with Heaven in a shambles he didn’t have to hold back as much. He wasn’t at such risk of discovery and he could let some of that incomprehensibly vast power bleed into his words. The air around him was getting thick with grace charged energy.

“Um, why don’t you come in and explain,” Sam said. “Everything.” The last word was said with a little more force than was probably wise with even a semi-powered archangel but hey he was still in shock. And it was really good eggnog.

0oOo0

“I gotta say, when I decided to take us to ‘help’ I really wasn’t expecting you two wackos. I mean sure, Cas maybe, but you kids? And hanging out in the Men of Letter’s super-secret club house? Not sure if I’m impressed or depressed, to be honest.” Gabriel shrugged before wandering back to the couch where he had laid the shivering man (angel?) a few moments ago.

The archangel knelt down and ran a hand through the man's pale hair. The look of actual concern on his face was so out of place that Sam nearly laughed. “Don’t worry ‘Zira, we’ll sort it all out soon. Promise,” Gabe muttered, so low and quiet that Sam was pretty sure he wasn't meant to hear.

“So,” Sam said, stepping forward into the library. “Want to tell us what this is all about yet?”

“It is a really long story. Like all the way back to Eden long but the worst of it happened just before you were born. Suffice to say that Naomi has always been a bitch. I didn’t know where she had him for a long time but now I found him. And I can’t stay. That’s why I need you to get Crowley. He’s not answering my prayers, blasphemes, whatever! I have to clean up. Naomi wasn’t the only bitch with a scalpel upstairs.”

Sam blinked. About half of that made sense. He started to say as much when Cas rushed into the room. Dean had obviously told him Gabriel was visiting. He looked much more pleased to see the archangel than either Winchester. And Gabe looked almost as relieved to see Cas too which was odd. Gabriel didn’t usually go much beyond smug or grumpy. Sort of like a big angelic cat.

“Gabriel!” Cas said.

“Cassie! Thank Dad you’re here. I kinda need your help with…”

“Aziraphale?” Cas interrupted Gabriel, in awe when he spotted the blond man on the couch.

“Ah, yeah.” Gabe shrugged. “Ta da!”

Cas seemed amazed which was kind of amazing in itself. And he was even more enraptured with the other angel (Aziraphale?) on the couch than he was with Gabe being alive. And that was really saying something.

“Is it really… is he..?” Cas stumbled over whatever it was he was trying to ask.

But Gabe seemed to understand. “Yeah it is and yeah he is. But I _gotta_ run. He’s in bad shape and Hannah’s got people after us. I need to lay a false trail.”

“Hannah?” Cas sounded like a kicked puppy. He was disappointed. But then again even if she had changed as much as Cas thought Sam knew she had always been more black and white than Cas. The angel wouldn’t understand that though. He would just be hurt that she did something he thought was wrong. Cas could be a bit black and white too, come to think of it.

“Probably. Or whoever, you know more about what's going on upstairs than I do these days. So not important right now. You have to look after him. And get Crowley here as soon as you can.”

“Crowley?” Poor Cas was completely lost now. Then again, so was Sam.

“Shit you really don’t know?” Gabriel said. “Huh. Just trust me, okay? The old snake will know what to do. He’ll help.”

And with that completely oblique explanation Gabe patted Cas on the shoulder then snapped his fingers and was gone. Great.

“So, looks like we’re summoning Crowley!” Sam said.

“I suppose so,” Cas agreed. He still looked like a lost puppy. And, seriously, what was up with Sam’s brain today and comparing angels to companion animals?

This was not the way Sam had planned to spend Christmas. If this was some ridiculous trick he was going to personally find a way to kill Gabriel. Or at the very least let Dean do it.

0oOo0

“Hello boys!” Crowley said, “Didn’t think I’d be hearing from you so soon. And on Ex-mass too! I knew you loved me really.” His tone was just as smug as usual. The only thing to give away any concern was the way his eyes tracked Dean around the edge of the devil’s trap.

That was until he saw the now unconscious angel on the other side of the room. And his jaw literally dropped.

“Angel?” he near whispered. Then he glared at Cas who was crouched down next to the unconscious blond. “What did you _do_ to him Castiel?” And there was real hellfire in his voice now. All teasing pretence was dropped in favour of righteous venom. The room crackled with barely controlled power and all Sam could smell was sulphur and ozone. It was a little terrifying. Sometimes Sam forgot that Crowley really was the King of Hell with all the power that might imply. He should really try harder to remember.

“ _We_ didn’t do anything to him, Crowley,” Cas said with admirable composure considering the situation. “Gabriel _found_ him like this. We are trying to help.”

Crowley’s eyes narrowed but he calmed down a bit. “Gabe?” he said with surprising familiarity “Where is he then?”

“He fucked off,” Dean sniped.

Cas rolled his eyes. He really had picked up a lot of human gestures lately. “Can we please focus…”

“Let me out of this trap or right sodding now or I’ll break it. And trust me you do _not_ want that.”

“You can’t,” Dean growled and put himself between Cas and Crowley. Obscuring the King’s view of both angels.

And the threat caught Sam by surprise too. He didn’t think there was any way for a demon to break a devil’s trap. Even the King of Hell. There was one recorded case, other than Dean who had been almost human, and even that had been Beelzebub. A former angel. It had leveled a whole city in New Zealand and almost killed the fallen angel too.

“Listen, Sssquirrel, you don’t bloody scare me anymore,” Crowley said with even more aggression than he had turned on Cas. “Not without the bit of bone in your hand. And you have no _idea_ what I’m capable of where that bloody angel is concerned. I bled half the alpha monsters in the world just on a chance that he might be in Purgatory. Just imagine what I'll do to you if you get in my way now I can actually _see_ him.” But then the angel in question whimpered and that seemed to get Crowley’s attention back on Cas. “Don’t touch him,” the King snapped.

“And how would you like me to heal his grace without touching him, Crowley?” Cas said. Still not nearly as phased by the demon’s anger as Sam thought he should be.

“Let me _out_ and I’ll do it,” Crowley demanded.

“Demons can’t heal without a deal. And you certainly can’t heal an angel.” Cas said, frowning at the demon with increased suspicion.

“Wanna bet, hashmal,” Crowley said, using Cas’s old angelic rank like an insult. And then his eyes flashed. But not their usual crossroads red. They went golden yellow. “Let. Me. Out.” The lights in the room even flickered. And that was actually scary. The eyes were way too close to Azazel for Sam’s comfort.

Dean had Ruby’s knife out and actually looked like he was about to charge the King of Hell. But Cas stopped him by reaching out and catching his wrist.

“Do it,” Cas said softly, “Let him out. I think I need his help.”

Dean glared at Cas but then seemed to see something in the angel’s eyes that made him relent. He wrenched his arm free and stomped over to the edge of the trap, scuffing it with his boot until it broke.

Crowley took a deep (and unnecessary) breath before walking cautiously over to the two angels. Which was a bit silly after the fuss he just pulled.

“Holy mother of sin,” Crowley mumbled, eyes wide, as he dropped to his knees in front of Aziraphale. "It's really him...""

“There is demonic grace all through his,” Cas said when Crowley sat next to him. “But I don’t think that is the whole problem.”

“Nah, that’s mine, and it's not even part of the problem,” Crowley said, shaking off the comment. He reached out and placed a hand on the unconscious angel’s cheek and closed his eyes. It was unusually tender. Sam was starting to think this was freakier than the dramatic posturing earlier. What was it about this angel that could get both Gabriel and Crowley to turn so sappy.

Cas looked at the demon like he’d grown three heads. Though, actually Cas was still partially mojoed up at the moment so, for all Sam knew, Crowley might have three heads in angel vision.

Crowley winced, eyes still closed, and his hands started to glow blue-white where he touched Aziraphale. The wounds on the angel’s vessel started to knit back together.

Cas looked like he was about to choke on his own confusion. Whatever Crowley was doing Castiel was really _really_ surprised.

But it wasn't working as well as the demon expected. “Shit,” Crowley muttered. Aziraphale looked much healthier already but he was still unconscious. In fact with less blood and bruising on him he was the most _angelic_ looking angel Sam had seen yet. With blond curls, features even more delicate than his brother’s, a cherubic mouth, and a rounded face.

“Alright, back up boys,” Crowley said. He stretched his neck and started pulling off his suit jacket. “It’s time to pull out all the stops.”

“Why the hell is he stripping!” Dean demanded.

At the same time, Cas went to grab Crowley’s shoulder and stop him.

“You _can’t_ do that,” Cas said, “You’ll burn out your vessel. Not to mention the Winchesters!”

Sam wasn’t sure what ‘that’ was seeing as the worst Crowley being topless could do is maybe make Dean have some kind of crisis. Which yeah, annoying, but not deadly. And not meat suit destroying either. Well actually, pissing off Dean probably could be pretty destructive. But he didn’t think that was what Cas meant.

“Correction,” Crowley said. “ _You_ can’t do that. You’ve obviously figured out what’s going on. Even if the Hardy Boys are still behind the curve. You _know_ I’m older than you. And if you don’t take your hand off me right now and let me finish healing this angel, I will find a way to hurt you that even He can’t bring you back form. Got it?”

Cas dropped his hand and let Crowley get on with discarding the jacket. Luckily for Dean’s sanity the stripping pretty much stopped there apart from rolling up his sleeves anyway. Sam was still confused but he was starting to have a sneaking suspicion. And he didn’t like it one bit. There were very few things that 'older than Cas' could imply. And Crowley was _not_ meant to be one of them.

Sam took a few steps back. And, after a moment’s consideration, dragged Dean out of the way too.

Whatever Crowley did it made the room smell like ozone and burnt sugar and it clearly hurt. A lot. He rolled his spine in an inhuman way. Biting down hard on his lip and stifling some kind of curse. And finally, the demon screamed and light flared out around him. Even Cas covered his ears. And Sam and Dean both covered their eyes. The light faded but then the bunker's fuses blew.

And in the moment before the lights went out Sam could have sworn he saw feathered shadows against the walls. And felt wings across his skin.

It would take a few minutes for the generator to reboot. Leaving them in darkness for now.

“Murifri?” It was Crowley’s voice but it wasn’t English. “Omicaolz, ozien murifri! Ugegi, murifri. Eolmicalzo, eolvgeg.” It sounded like Enochian. It sounded like he was begging. It sounded like he was frantic.

“What the fuck is he doing?” Dean demanded from the darkness. “Is that some kind of spell?”

“No,” that was Cas’s voice. Soft. Sad. Awestruck? Again. “He’s... praying… sort of.”

The lights came back up slowly.

Crowley had both hands on the angel’s face. Watching intently for any sign of life. “Zacam... umd Aziraphael, zacam ar ugegi…” Was he sobbing? Wow. Sam hadn’t seen Crowley this desperate since the attempted cure. Maybe not even then.

Even Cas looked distressed. Whatever Crowley had tried it hadn’t worked. At least not sufficiently. And what ever he was saying it was intimate and despairing.

Sam didn’t know enough Enochian to translate the whole thing. But he knew enough to guess. He knew that _ozien_ meant mine, or my own, and _murifri_ was angel. The other stuff was some kind of command. Or request maybe? But he knew that tone of voice. That was desperation. And love. And fear. All bound up together in a moment that might be grief or might be salvation. Might be both.

The demon was mumbling so low now that Sam couldn’t hear him anymore. But Cas could, and Cas could understand what was being said. By watching Cas's face he could still follow what was going on. And Cas looked more and more confused and upset as the moments wore on. This wasn’t good.

Eventually Crowley ran out of things to say. Or ran out of hope. Or both. “Ozien mo’nonusa,” the demon mumbled and ran a thumb softly across Aziraphale's cheekbone. He sounded defeated. Whatever the last statement meant though it made Cas outright blush. Crowley shook his head then leaned down to place a kiss on the unconscious angel's forehead. “Zirdo tib’ibp,” he muttered, “Tib’ibp.”

“Chista‘zire, esiasch” Cas said, still soft and respectful. He looked like he wanted to reach out and touch the demon but he didn’t.

“Don’t call me that,” Crowley snarled. Cas just looked sad.

Sam glanced over his shoulder. Dean looked even more lost than Sam felt. His Enochian was even rustier and he always reacted more strongly to Cas than Sam did. The fact Castiel was upset would put Dean on edge. And Crowley’s tone would not be helping matters. But if Sam’s assumptions about Crowley and the angel in the chair were correct then Dean’s inevitable reaction was not going to help.

“Dean,” Sam said, a warning. But it was too late.

“What, the actual fuck, is going on!” Dean asked. And at least he wasn’t shouting too much. Small mercies and all that.

“The angel is dying, Dean,” Crowley said, “and there is nothing else I can do to fix it.” And if his use of Dean’s actual name wasn’t enough of a sign then his expression was. Or at least it was for Sam. Dean seemed to take the demon’s misery as an invitation.

“I don’t fucking care about that. What did…”

“I- fucking- care!” Crowley said, bleeding with cold menace. He didn’t shout. He didn’t need to. His tone could freeze Hell. Hey, maybe it did. That thought would make Sam laugh if it wasn't so terrifying. He shivered instead.

The demon stood up and took a menacing step towards Dean. Who just puffed up like some kind of macho monkey that couldn’t see that the snake was ten times his size, ten times his age, and twenty times as pissed off. Suddenly Crowley had an angel blade in his hand. He’d obviously given up even trying to pretend to be anything else. Although Sam wasn’t sure if Dean had figured it yet out or not.

Great! Merry Christmas, Sam, your brother’s going to die. Again.

But then, “Crowley? Is that you, my dear?” asked a decidedly posh English voice from the chair.

All eyes spun to the now lucid angel. Thank you God. Or Santa? Or whoever! Sam was definitely thankful to something or someone for the timing of that recovery. No matter who it was. Hell, he’d thank Lucifer if he had to. The timing was perfect. Living brother! Yay!

“Angel?” Crowley asked “It worked? It bloody worked!” Dean’s offenses were forgotten for now as the demon dropped back to the angel’s side.

“Why are you menacing Michael’s vessel?” Aziraphale asked suddenly much perkier. “Also, where is your corporeation? And _whom_ are you wearing instead? How unsanitary.” Crowley actually laughed at that. Like it was the funniest thing he’d heard in years. Like it was the first time he'd really _laughed_ in years. Maybe it was.

Then the King of Hell kissed an angel in their library.

0oOo0

Dean and Castiel both still look horrified by the apparent intimacy between the King and the angel. Which, really guys? Really? But Sam was willing to let it slide for now. Whatever the crisis was it had been averted. For now at least. And Sam was willing to be happy for even vicarious victories these days. He needed them. They all did. And they had the eggnog out again. And that was always good.

“I don’t get it,” Dean insisted grumpily. He was being purposefully obtuse. He had to be. Sam knew his brother wasn’t half as dumb as he sometimes pretended.

“Crowley is an angel. Or he was. Like Lucifer or Azazel,” Cas explained.

“Wait, Azazel was an angel?” Sam asked, genuinely curious. That he hadn’t known.

“Sort of,” that was actually Crowley coming back into the room with a small tray. He’d managed to drag himself away from his restored angel for long enough to make tea. For said angel over whom he was fussing like a mother duck. And there went Sam’s psyche with the fluffy animal comparisons again – maybe he spent too much time around angels and demons. He really needed to remember to be scared of them sometimes.

“Hell can corrupt us just like it can humans,” Aziraphale added helpfully. Then, “Thank you my dear.” The last was said to Crowley who had handed him a cup of tea. Tea which smelled suspiciously nicer than the cheap stuff Sam knew he had in the kitchen. And a little like sherry too.

“Then who the hell was Fergus McLeod? If he isn't you?” Dean demanded. Still excessively grumpy if you asked Sam. Dean was the one who liked Christmas! He’d put up a stupid little tree and everything. He should be happy the Bunker was full of angels. It was very Christmas-y. Even if one of them was snuggling Crowley on their couch.

“Your vessel?” Aziraphale said, frowning at Crowley. Asking a new question that just happened to answer Dean’s.

“It’s a long story,” Crowley said grudgingly. “I’ve been looking for you for a _long_ time.”

“Didn’t he sell his soul for…”

“Yes,” Crowley interrupted.

“And then you smuggled him out?”

“Yes,” Crowley hissed. “That’s the one.”

“That doesn’t explain why Michael’s ve…”

“My name is _not_ Michael’s vessel! It’s Dean. Dean Winchester," Dean said. "You’re in my damn library you can use my damn name.” Sam suppressed a chuckle at that. Dean was adorable when he was trying to be in charge. Also, it seemed Sam was a bit drunk. Good to know.

“I am sorry Dean,” Aziraphale said seriously. “My social skills are somewhat rusty. Please accept my apologies.” Crowley squeezed his hand and looked positively lethal at the reminder of where Aziraphale had been while getting ‘rusty’.

“Fine,” Dean accepted the apology grudgingly. He even ignored the angelic hand-holding. Maybe Dean had some self-preservation instincts after all.

“That does not explain why Dean is under the impression that you were Fergus,” Aziraphale said. Finally managing to ask Crowley his original question.

“I had to make some… compromises while I was looking for you. I didn’t want to get doused in holy oil for my efforts. So,” he shrugged and gestured vaguely at Sam and Dean, “Fergus it was. And it kept Hell off my back too. They didn’t even remember who I was. So why not. Adam helped. I’ve got all of Fergus’s memories if I need them. It isn’t a big deal.” But it obviously was. Interesting.

“What?” Gabriel said suddenly appearing out of nowhere; startling both hunters and none of the angels. “So, you’re telling me that Rocky and Bullwinkle here bought _you_ as a 400 year old human demon that just happened to be able to take over Hell? But still managed to figure out I wasn’t Loki? Who I’ve _actually_ been for almost 2,000 years!”

“Maybe I’m just a better Trickster, Gabby. Who knows.” Crowley looked smug. It was a familiar look.

Gabriel made an offended squeaky huff. That was pretty funny too - he sounded like a grumpy chicken. Angels really were like cute fluffy animals. Sam's psyche had been right all along. Hurrah!

“Hark, the herald angel sings!” Aziraphale said with a little giggle. And Crowley must really be in love because he smirked at the ‘joke’ too. Even Sam's eggnog shouldn't make _that_ funny.

“I am not singing,” Gabriel said. But when he saw Dean's horrified expression and added, “Yet! I need to drink about 6 gallons of brandy before I do any caroling or heralding whatsoever.”

Aziraphale clapped and Crowley sighed dramatically. But the demon couldn’t quite hide the slightly dopey expression whenever he looked at his angel. It was actually kinda sweet to see. Even if it was Crowley.

"I think I'm only just over the hangover from _last_ time you made us go caroling," Crowley pointed out, "And _that_ was in 1563."

“And I _still_ don’t understand what the hell is going on!” Dean said. “But I want some of that brandy. Preferably now if I have to keep dealing with all this... whatever this is.”

"Well, I've never managed to get anything into that pretty skull of yours Deanosaur,” Gabriel said. "But brandy? That I can arrange." The archangel grinned and snapped his fingers.

Maybe Christmas wasn't going so bad after all.

**Author's Note:**

>  **Enochian Translations:**  
>  Murifri = Angel  
> Omicaolz, ozien murifri. Ugegi, murifri. Eolmicalzo, eolvgeg. = ‘Become mighty, my own angel. Grow strong, angel. I make (compel) you be mighty, I make (compel) you be strong.’  
> Zacam... umd Aziraphael, zacam ar ugegi = ‘I move/affect you… you who are named Aziraphale, I move/affect you so that you grow strong.’  
> Ozien mo’nonusa = ‘Mine own heart’ (or ‘the center of me’)  
> Zirdo tib’ibp = Literally ‘I am become sorrow’ or ‘I am sorry’  
> Chista’zire, esiasch = As am I, brother. (Esiasch= Brother)  
> 
> 
> * * *
> 
> I have a [tumblr](http://kittyaugust.tumblr.com/).


End file.
